Ice in the Desert Chunk 4

Our favorite Killjoy, Black Ice, goes in the search of her partner, the steely Coulgant.

I wake up at what I assume was morning, as the lights were on and I could hear footsteps leaving the room. I sit up wearily, and rub my eyes. Taking in my surroundings, I see that the room is mostly empty, except for a few kids sleeping like I was. I stand up, wincing at a few aches that came with the movement, and I slug my way over to the door, looking out at the kids walking by in the direction of the room at the end of the hall. Deciding to follow them, I enter the room, which is full of fold-up chairs. At the front of the room sits Party-Poison, which is probably the reason everyone is heading this way. I take a seat in the back, halfway hoping someone would sit next to me for me to talk to. All the same, it might be better if I just lay low.

More people start filing into the room, seeming to range from about eleven to seventeen. Then there's Poison at the front, the only fully grown person here. That alone already makes him seem like a figure of authority. While contemplating this, all the chairs are filled and a few mill around the edges of the room without a seat, and the room is engulfed in the sound of people talking. There must be about thirty or more of us in here. Then Poison starts speaking, and all the chitchat stops.

“Ahem,” he starts, “Killjoys, we're not to do anything flashy today. There's going to be more Exterminators and Vampires around than normal, as we've brought a lot of attention to ourselves lately. Too much attention.” he stops, and stares at us all with a look that says, Yes, I am the one that attracted the unwanted attention, but no need to say it out, okay? “So for the day, we're just going to be doing routine tasks. No special patrols.” he stops, stares for a few seconds, and starts talking again. “Oh, and we have a new member to help us change this world today: Please welcome Black Ice in the back there! Stand up, you!” he says, which surprises me, and I stand up, staring awkwardly at everyone, uncertain of what to do. Some kids say hi, some roll their eyes at Poison's name for me, and the rest mutter among themselves while glancing at me from time to time.

“Now for the morning patrols. I want everyone on this side of the room,” he says, picking the half that I'm on. “To pick two or three other people to go on morning patrol. Have a productive day.” he finishes, and with that, he gets up and walks out with a confident swagger. The room erupts into instant noise as everyone over on my half starts to group up. I look around, uncertain of what to do. I don't know anyone, so I'm not sure who's group I should join. A kid grabs my shoulder, and I jump, spinning around to face her.

“Hey!” she say happily, “Wanna come with us?” she gestures to a boy next to her. The two of them look to be about my age, the boy a tad shorter and the girl a hair taller than me. They both have the same fire-red hair, with the girl's long and past her shoulders, while the boy's is a little shaggy, but nothing more. The girl's eyes are pale blue, and the boy's are exceptionally strange: one eye is hazel, and the other a piercing green. Their faces are freckled and mildly sun-burnt. Also, the two of them have the same thin frame. They even have matching outfits: pale green t-shirts, and orange shorts. They share the same cheerful grin. I stare, amazed at their similarity. The girl catches me before I can ask, and I assume that she's dealt with this before. “We're twins. Fraternal.” she says quickly. “So, join or no?”

“Um, sure. Why not?” I reply. After all, I needed someone to go with, and it's easier to say yes to an invitation then offer one myself.

“Great!, Let's get going while the sun's still low! Oh, and I'm Scorch, and my brother is Crimson.” she says, and she grabs my arm and drags me to the hallway. Crimson follows behind us as we weave the through the other kids. We then follow some other kids up the ladder, and when I climb back onto the top world, I squint my eyes at the harsh sun, filling up the sky. The twins pull themselves up next to me, and their grin fades away and is replaced by a grimace. Crimson speaks.

“Well, where to?” he says, using his hand to block out as much sun as possible while he looks around. I immediately think of the Dust Bunny, and decide to take them there.

“I know a good place. Follow me.” I say, setting off in the direction I originally came from. The twins follow, walking in time. As we travel, we converse.

“How long've you two been part of the Killjoys?” I say, wishing for my bandanna. I make a mental reminder to look for the girl that took it, Sand-Demon, when we get back.

“A few weeks,” says Scorch, seemingly unaffected by the dust, “We got caught scavenging 'n a place they claim ta own.”

“Yeah,” says Crimson. “I didn't know that anyone owned anything out here.” he wipes his forehead. “How much further until this good place?” he asks. I can see it as a speck off in the distance, and my spirits soar.

“Just up ahead. I can see it.” I reply confidently, smiling. I suddenly trip over a rock, and the twins laugh.

“Grace must be one of your best traits!” snickers Scorch as I stand up at wipe the dust off my knees, giggling myself.

“Your name suits you.” jokes Crimson, and I look at him with mock offense. We recover from this bit of silliness, and continue our trek happily. We finally approach the manor, and the twins stare excitedly at what they believe is an abandoned building. “How did you find this place?” Crimson asks in awe.

“I-,” I stop, wondering whether or not to tell them. I decide to tell them part of the truth. “I lived here before last night. I mostly want to get some stuff.” I say. It's mostly true; I lived there, I wanted a few things. But most of all, I want to talk to Coulgant. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears as I reach for the door handle, wondering what he'll say, what he'll look like when he sees me. I've been gone a whole night, so he must think I'm dead. I yank the door open, and peer into the dim room, lit only by the sun pouring through the windows. I expect to see him there, in the room, mouth agape, but it doesn't look like anyone is here. I step in, and call out tentatively, my voice echoing in the empty space, “Coulgant?”

I get no reply, no movement, nothing. The twins stare at me like I'm crazy. “Um, Ice?” inquires Scorch, “Who's Coulgant?” they instinctively tense, readying themselves for an encounter with another person. “What aren't you telling us?” but though they persist, I don't answer. I sift through our supplies, wondering where he is. I look to the staircase in the hopes that he might be up there, but then I recall that we never go up there because we're uncertain of how stable the stairs are. Where is he? Is he scavenging? I try in vain to believe that he must be patrolling, but I know deep inside that he isn't when I see his gun where he left it on the windowsill. He must've either been killed or ran away from the house after I didn't come back. I feel tears sting the edge of my eyes. Coulgant, gone. He's been with me for the more productive part of my life.

“D-don't worry 'bout it.” I mumble, and the twins exchange glances. “Let's just get the stuff and go.” they nod without saying a word. We start gathering up the few food supplies we had, and I take some of the spare clothes I had. I grab the blanket that rested on my bench in the corner, wrap the clothes up in it, and tie it into a bag. My hands shake as I pick up Coulgant's gun, keeping it as both a reminder of him and as a vital tool, and I put it into the makeshift bag with a tear rolling down my cheek. The twins come out of the kitchen with a stale loaf of bread, a jar of peaches that we had been saving for a special occasion, a few containers, and a radio. The radio catches my eye. That's not where it was when I left yesterday, I had it with me next to the bench in the main room, the one with the old dusty window.

“Where did you two find that?” I inquire sharply. If he was going to leave, he would've had no reason to leave the radio. If someone killed or captured him, like Vampires or more vicious rebels, they would've taken the radio. I suddenly remember one time where he pulled off the most awesome trick, if he used it, then... He might still be here then, maybe here, he must be--

“Gotcha.” says a familiar voice as a hand grabs my shoulder.

Author's Note

Typ0 ch3ck.